The Fork-Finder
by Kierielle Huntington
Summary: Wilbur fully expects his dad to bury him alive and dance on his grave for almost ruining the future, but instead Cornelius sends him off to try out his new invention - the "Fork-Finder," a device that reveals the different possibilities of future choices. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

_{Meet the Robinsons belongs to Disney.} _

** A/N: This has been sitting on my backburner for quite some time now, and it just wouldn't leave my head. So here it is. **Enjoy. :) ****

** Time travel is really complicated (but you know that ;) ) and ****I am no expert on it, so bear with me. **

** Your feedback is much **appreciated! Don't ever under******estimate the power of one review. ;)**

* * *

><p>Wilbur Robinson gulped and squeezed his eyes shut, half-heartedly forcing his feet to move.<p>

He deserved this. All of it and more.

And _somewhere _deep down inside his reckless thirteen-year-old heart, he knew it.

_ H__e _had left the garage door unlocked.

In fact, he hadn't even shut it.

The Bowler Hat Guy would never have gotten access to the Type-2 Time Machine if it wasn't for Wilbur's carelessness_. _And after the mess had started, he could at least have called his father and confessed...

And asked for help.

But oh, no - he was way too smart for that. He just _had _to attempt to fix it all himself.

_ "Don't I ever learn?" _Wilbur thought as he trudged down the massive hallway to his father's observatory-turned-workshop. Cornelius Robinson apparently had something very important to tell his son.

Of course he did.

Wilbur had almost ruined the future for everyone, albeit unintentionally.

But this wasn't the first time...and he _knew _beyond a shadow of a doubt he was in for it.

Way too soon he found himself at the foot of the sleek, pale blue stairway.

"Wilbur!" Cornelius' irrationally calm voice issued from above.

Wilbur silently climbed up, bracing himself for the worst. They really would bury him alive this time...well, not really, but that wasn't the point. The point was, he was _seriously _in for it…

He reached the top of the stairway and almost smiled out of reflex. He loved the observatory - it was so full of crazy inventions and pure imagination that you couldn't help it.

The almost-smile perished the instant he saw his father. He was standing with his back to Wilbur, leaning over the Timestream Map screen, which just looked like an old-fashioned TV. He unplugged from it what looked like an ugly old 2020s' smartphone.

"Wilbur," Cornelius said again, his voice still terrifyingly calm. He turned and met Wilbur's eyes. Smiled. _Smiled._

A thrill of dread filled Wilbur's stomach.

"Yeah, Dad?" he answered, trying to keep his voice careless.

"I need you to do something for me."

"What?" He knew the surprise in his voice was evident.

"I've finished my Fork-Finder. I've tested it and it worked well for me, but I'd like you to give it a try." Cornelius handed him the light-orange colored device.

"Fork-Finder?" Wilbur arched a brow. "What does it do?" he asked, suspicious.

"It plugs into the Time Machines' dashboards and finds parallel scenarios for future dates. Simply put, you punch in a future date and it will take you to all of the possibilities, and then it will go back and show you where it broke off. It diverts from the current flow of the upcoming stream of time if it forks off into more than one likely possibility." He chuckled, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "I know that's _not _very simply put, but that's the best way I can explain it. It'll make more sense when you try it out."

"How many time streams can it take you to per date?" Wilbur was intrigued, although the logistics of time travel had never made much sense to him. He ran a thumb over the touchscreen. A keyboard appeared, and above it it asked for a future date.

"As many as there are for that one situation - most have four or five, but the point in time I want you to go to has only two. I found it by accident...but I think you need to see it." Cornelius' face clouded. "Carl will go with you. I have another meeting I have to prepare for."

Wilbur was surprised his dad trusted him enough to let him go with just Carl in the Time Machine after everything that had happened. But he wasn't going to argue - this was a _much _better option to being buried alive.

So, without protest, he gave Dad a nod and headed down to the garage.

**...MTR...**

"Oh, sir!" Carl exclaimed, his gold-metal face holding an expression of despair.

"Now Carl, I'm sure it won't come to that," Cornelius said calmly.

Cornelius was debriefing Carl as quickly as he could about the Fork-Finder - and what he had discovered - as they walked down a pale orange-and-blue hallway, towards the garage. Wilbur was already down there, connecting the Fork-Finder to the Time Machine. Time Machine _#1, _that was; Cornelius had found Time Machine #2 and brought it home safe and sound, but it needed some repairs.

"Yeah, so do not forget, _2045 - " _His watch beeped. "Ahhh, I _will_ be late for my meeting with Mr. Meterson...You've got it, right? Don't forget, use the Scoper."

Carl nodded. "Yes, I've got it. I just can't believe Little Buddy would do such a - "

"I am certain this will prevent it, Carl. I am certain."

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Review! :D <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the reviews.** **:)**

* * *

><p>Wilbur locked the Fork-Finder <em>- what a name - <em>into the dashboard and bit his lower lip. He gaze wandered around the garage, looking at nothing and everything. _This should be interesting… _

He turned to see Carl _whoosh_ out of a travel tube. He gave Wilbur a half-smile and walked over to the Time Machine.

"Well, you ready to go?" Carl asked, staring at the dashboard. He looked concerned, Wilbur decided. Like he had something heavy on his mind.

It was unnerving. This whole entire thing was unnerving. Not that he would let his face show it...

"Yeah, I'm ready," he answered, with fake-but-convincing bravado.

Carl nodded. "I'm driving."

"But Carl -"

"Your dad's orders!"

"Whatever," he grumbled. He climbed into the Time Machine and flopped into the back seat. Carl settled into the front.

"2045, here we come," Carl declared, starting the engine and typing numbers into the Fork-Finder. The glass top closed.

Wilbur's eyebrows jerked up.

2045? Eight years from now.

He'd be twenty-one. A sneaking suspicion that this had to do with _his_ personal future seared his mind.

Yep. This would be interesting.

**...MTR...**

"Welcome to '45," Wilbur whispered under his breath.

It had brought them to _their_ back yard, sure enough. It was night, but there was warm-looking light shining from all the windows of Mom's ballroom.

"The Scoper is just an advanced version of the Robinson Scanner, your dad said," Carl clarified, answering Wilbur's question as to what the Scoper was and what it was for.

"Great," Wilbur said distractedly - there were numerous flying cars parked on the lawn among the shaped shrubbery. He squinted, studying the window of a car in the process of parking. "Look, Carl - you're valeting."

Carl chuckled, watching his future self park the flying car. "So I still do the valeting...I guess some things never change. We must be having a company party."

"You've always liked driving, haven't you? Are...we supposed to get out?"

Carl pushed a button and the glass top opened. "Yeah to both, " he said, handing Wilbur an InvisibilityBand.

Wilbur clicked it around his wrist and felt its InvisiShield encompass his whole body. "It's not fair you don't need these," he smirked, hopping onto the lawn. Carl grabbed the dark red Scoper - which also looked like one of those ugly old flatscreen cell phones - and stepped down next to him.

"Hey, I do! Your dad just put the InvisiShield _in_ my wiring," Carl insisted, twisting his wrist until it _clicked._ His shield went up. "I'll never understand how he got it to work so that you can see other wearers of InvisiShield, and they can see you, but no one else can."

"Yeah, that's Dad for you." Wilbur shrugged as they trotted towards the mansion.

They stopped at a section of wall that had a high, circular window.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Wilbur asked, jerking his chin up at it.

Carl grinned. He picked Wilbur up and set him on his shoulders. He then extended his legs until their heads were level with the window. "We're invisible, yet we still do things the secret agent way," Carl teased.

"Not sure this qualifies as the 'secret agent way,'" Wilbur laughed, taking hold of the window sill and gazing in. They _were_ using the ballroom - a large, open room with pale orange walls and shimmering chandeliers and a 30-feet-high ceiling - for one of Dad's semi-annual company parties. Peppy music played (Dad evidently still hadn't perfected his completely-soundproof windows) and several couples were dancing and laughing.

His downward gaze wandered around the room until he found Dad. There he was, next to the long buffet tables - talking with who looked like Mr. Meterson, one of his executive board members. Next to Cornelius stood a well built, slender man with night-black hair whom Wilbur didn't recognize. At first.

The man turned slightly, and Wilbur saw.

"Oh my..." he let go of the sill and almost fell off of Carl's shoulders.

It was him. Older, much older, but he himself.

21-yr-old Wilbur was dressed in a crisp white shirt and a sleek black vest, but his hair was still slicked up and his grin still cocky.

And good grief, was that Lissie - Elisabeth - Meterson he was talking with? Mr. Meterson's kid? Except she didn't look much like a kid anymore. Her light brown hair was swept up and she had a sparkly, swishy blue dress on. He had a fleeting thought that the chandeliers' glow was probably making her sky-blue eyes glitter. Yeesh.

And...was that - oh goodness.

"Hand me the Scoper," he whispered.

Carl did so. Wilbur zoomed in on Lissie's left hand and double-tapped.

_ Oh, goodness. _

The screen read: _Engagement Ring belonging to Elisabeth Meterson. _

The ring's enlarged image revealed a tiny golden lightning bolt. _His _signature lightning bolt.

He didn't need to scan his own hand to know. But he held his breath and zoomed in on his older self's left hand anyway.

_ Engagement Ring belonging to Wilbur Robinson. _

"Carl…" He pointed to the screen.

"Little Buddy…" Carl's eyes widened. "Cornelius didn't tell me that," he mumbled. He tilted his head. "But he did mention that you're the co-CEO of Robinson Industries now -"

"I am?!" Wilbur grabbed the window sill again. This was a lot to swallow.

"Hey, a lot can change in eight years," Carl pointed out. "You must have mellowed a little."

"Hmm," Wilbur grunted. "Well...wow. CEO."

"_Co_-CEO."

"I can't believe Dad wants to share it with me." He arched his eyebrows. "He's letting me co-run his business at twenty-one? That's kinda only eight years away."

"I think it has to do more with maturity than age. Like I said, a_ lot_ can change. And you're close to twenty-two here." A bright glimmer of teasing sparked in Carl's smile.

"And...I'm...going to _marry_ Lissie." It was awkward saying it out loud. Very, very awkward.

"Well, it can't be that bad. Look at you," Carl nodded down at Wilbur's older self. "You look as happy as I've ever seen you."

He was right. 21-yr-old Wilbur was grinning and laughing and prodding the chocolate fountain with a piece of honeydew melon. And nudging Lissie, making _her_ laugh - in a way that was making 13-yr-old Wilbur feel quite awkward, but...at the same time, somehow satisfied.

"Look how your dad keeps glancing at you - and Elisabeth - and smiling."

Wilbur felt a smile push the corners of his mouth up. "Yeah," he agreed. "He looks so happy."

_And proud._

Franny made her way over to Cornelius and pulled on his arm. He threw his head up in a laugh and let her pull him onto the dance floor. They whirled around playfully, smirking and grinning.

"Dad's still not a very good dancer," Wilbur snorted good-naturedly.

"Your mom makes up for it," Carl remarked. "You're fortunate you take after _her _musically."

Wilbur didn't answer. He was too busy watching himself.

He was pulling Lissie onto the dance floor. He whirled her around and her skirt swirled - she moved so elegantly. They looked professional.

Or they would, if they weren't laughing so hard.

They all looked so happy, warm, and snug…

This was a good future. This would be a fantastic life.

A future and a life he would look forward to.

They stayed there, watching the party, for a long while.

"Well, we should probably go to the next scenario," Carl finally said.

"Alright," Wilbur reluctantly agreed, taking one last look.

Carl lowered back down, retracting his legs to his normal height. Wilbur slid off his shoulders, thudding as his own feet hit the grass. They walked back to the Time Machine in peaceful silence.

Wilbur's nerves had settled. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine. What had he been so afraid of, anyway?

They hopped into the Time Machine and Carl started the engine.

"Alright," he said quietly - and something in his tone made some of the nervousness come back to Wilbur's stomach. "Let's go see the parallel scenario."

Wilbur shoved the uncomfortable feeling away.

Everything would be fine.

It would be.

_ It had to be. _

"Let's go!" he said, and with that, Carl hit a few buttons and they were off.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Review! ;)<strong>


End file.
